


Twelve Days of Christmas Gifts

by kahlen369



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: 12 Days of Christmas, All the Christmas tropes basically, But in a kind of serious way, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Christmas Presents, Christmas Tree, Endgame Swan Queen, F/F, Fluff, Gen, Giftgiving, Loose interpretation of lyrics, Mostly in backstory, SO MUCH FLUFF, Swan-Mills-Charming Family, Tiny bits of Angst, Zelena is part of the family, kind of cracky, so is little Robyn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-06 11:21:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8748529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kahlen369/pseuds/kahlen369
Summary: It starts when Emma shows up unannounced on Regina's door with a toy robin in a plastic tree, and it only gets more ridiculous from there, as the blonde is determined to cheer the other woman up by giving her a present for each of the twelve days of Christmas. Regina is simultaneously flattered, touched and worried, especially as the gifts start getting more and more extravagant. It all comes to a head on Christmas day, when the whole family (UnCharmings, Wicked Sisters and all) is there to witness the final gift, which will be the grandest of all.





	1. A Partridge In A Pear Three

**Author's Note:**

> This is set somewhere in season 6, but without Split Queen or Hook. Regina decides not to go through with removing the Evil Queen. For Reasons. And, uh, Hook leaves town. Also, because, Reasons. (All these reasons may or may not be detailed in the next chapters)
> 
> Some of these gifts will be more loosely interpreting the song lyrics than others. Hopefully, it all manages to stay in character and within the realm of possibility (for a magical town full of fairytale characters, that is). 
> 
> Also, posting early, because I won't manage a post a day for sure, but I hope to have the final chapter on Christmas day. :)

~~~~It is strange, having a baby in the house again. But not unwelcome.

  
Zelena reminds her so much of herself, unsure and fearful but so fiercely determined and eyes soft with love whenever she looks down at her little girl.

  
Robin is gone, but _Robyn_ lives on.

  
It’s not a fair trade, not at all. But Regina has learned to take what she can get and accept what she can not. She gets a sister, as well as a niece, and that’s more family than she ever thought she could have.

  
Still, family or not, that certainly doesn’t stop them from driving each other up the wall sometimes (a lot of the times). Then again, if her interactions with Henry’s other mother, and his grandparents (which is a different kind of issue), are any indication, this is just what family is like. Maybe it’s not quite healthy, but what does she, or Zelena, for that matter, know about that? What’s important is that they’re _trying_.

  
Considering neither of them have tried to seriously maim or kill each other in the time they’ve been living together, well, Regina is counting that as a _roaring success_. Coming from once being bitter enemies, perhaps it really is one.

  
In any case, most of the credit belongs to Robyn, who they both dote endlessly over. Neither of them want to fight too much in her presence, not when the sensitive girl already cries at the drop of a hat. If there’s one thing Regina hasn't missed about having a baby in the house again, it’s _that_.

  
The baby is restless, prone to crying, and neither of the sisters are getting much sleep. Regina has more luck calming Robyn down, typically, which always makes Zelena bristle and all the more determined to do it herself, despite all of her reassurance that it is only experience and the memory of Henry that allows her to do so. The boy in question, whenever he stays over, tends to disappear during these moments (and those including diaper changing), an ability that he’s learned from the years with his “Uncle” Neal.

  
In any case, today is a rare moment of peace from the little cherub. Robyn seems to be all smiles of late, and Henry likes to say that it’s Christmas spirit that makes it so, with the kind of easy earnestness that makes him seem younger than he is. His mother is a little more skeptical, the boy is the Truest Believer for a reason. Whatever the reason for it, the adult residents of the mansion are quite grateful. Henry starts showing up more too, though that could easily be the Christmas cookies Regina tends to bake around this season.

  
Case in point, Regina is currently in the kitchen, pulling out the latest batch of little gingerbread men when she hears her sister shout for her (like a _caveman_ , honestly, where did everyone’s manners _go?)_

  
“Oh, dear sweet sister of mine!” Zelena’s call cames from near the front door, and Regina rolls her eyes, determined not to heed it, when the voice adds, with a teasing lilt. “It’s for _you!_ ”

  
_What now?_ She wonders exasperatedly. Considering the tone of her sister’s voice, it’s probably not anything too serious. But seeing how much the ex-villain still likes to enjoy the misery of the so-called heroes, and how much amusement she gets out of a little chaos and destruction, Regina is just a little worried. So, she quickly places the still piping hot pan on the counter, before hurrying to the door. With this town, you never knew what it could be.

  
But when she arrives, there is only Emma, standing at the door, with an expression somewhere between sheepish and hopeful. It’s not an expression she would have if anyone were in danger, so there’s that at least.

  
On the other hand, she has no idea what is going on now, especially as her gaze dips lower, and she sees what the blonde is holding in her hands.

  
_What_.

  
“...Is that a toy robin?” The former Evil Queen can only blink confusedly, quite unsure what manner of insanity has managed to befall the Saviour this time. There’s no shimmer or hum of magic, but she hasn’t ruled out a spell yet. That, at least, would make sense.

  
Emma nods, adding, “In a plastic potted tree, yes.” Then, she holds the thing up a little higher to show it off, as though Regina did not have eyes that could see it for herself---As though this was all a perfectly natural thing to do, and there was nothing odd about this at all.

  
Beside her, Zelena snickers, not holding back at all, it seems. Regina cuts a glare at her sister, but it only makes her laugh harder. Gritting her teeth, she says she says pointedly, “ _I_ will handle this now, dear sister.” She doesn’t quite shove the other woman back into the house, but it’s a near thing.

  
Zelena goes back inside as directed, but she can still hear the laughter. This makes her frown harder, but she decides to deal with the redhead later. For now, she turns her attention back to Emma.

  
Who seems to be waiting for her to say something. _Of course._

  
Regina sighs. “Is this supposed to be some strange apology over what happened with… Robin?”

  
It’s been a few months since her soulmate's unfortunate end (and she still tries not to think too much about it, because of the tangle of feelings she gets). They’ve talked a few times, mostly about Henry or work, but their interactions had been stiff and stilted. Regina wasn’t angry at Emma, exactly, didn’t blame her, not really. But, well, it was hard not to feel a little bitter over it all. Emma being _Emma_ , she’d tried repeatedly to apologize and get closer, but Regina had quite firmly told her that there was nothing to forgive, nothing to apologize for. All she had wanted and needed was some time and space. Just a little surprisingly, Emma had obeyed. This was the first time since then that the blonde had approached her without some pretense or veneer of business.

  
Emma looked even more sheepish at her question. Tilting her head in vague agreement and apology, she explained, “Kind of? It’s not so much an apology as… something to cheer you up.” At Regina’s raised brow, she quickly adds, “Because, it’s Christmas, and everyone likes gifts, right?”

  
Regina looks down at the thing in Emma’s hands. It’s rather adorable, she supposes, as ridiculous bird-themed objects go. The little tree is decorated for Christmas with miniature tinsel and little apples (Regina is just a little touched despite herself), topped off with the tiny robin in place of a star. “So, _this_ is for me?”

  
At this, Emma nods more enthusiastically, “ _Yep!_ The first of twelve.”

  
“ _Twelve?_ ” Regina is just a little alarmed.

  
The sheriff only grins. “For the twelve days of Christmas--you know, like the song!”

  
Having raised a boy through a decade of Christmases, Regina is familiar, and she looks down at the gift with new eyes. “So, this is the partridge in a pear tree, then?”

  
“But with a _twist!_ I figured a robin would be better--not because of Robin!” Emma rushes to add, worried about reopening wounds, and quickly corrects, “But because of, well, Robyn. Uh, with a ‘y’. The little baby one.”

  
Regina shakes her head. She supposed her niece will probably appreciate it, though she’s too young to go near it without careful supervision, thanks to the small parts. Her lips start to quirk a little as she concludes, “And apples instead of pears.”

  
The other woman gives a small, slightly embarrassed shrug. “Felt appropriate.”

  
“Okay, dear.” Regina says, and holds her hands out to take the gift. “Thank you. I… appreciate it, I suppose.”

  
The gift is handed to her with gusto, and the woman’s smile is almost blinding. “Just wait for the next ones!”

  
Though it’s not intended as such she’s sure, it sounds just a little ominous to her ears.

  
\---

  
Emma leaves soon after that, and Regina goes back inside with arms full of plastic tree and bird. Her sister is in the hall, holding Robyn in her arms and smirking at her. No doubt she’d eavesdropped on the entire conversation. The brunette wonders why she even bothered.

  
“Twelve gifts, really? I have to say, I’m a little _jealous_ of you.” The tease makes her roll her eyes, but the word choice just shows how far they’ve come. It wasn’t so long ago that Zelena would have meant the sentiment sincerely, would’ve hated Regina for getting something she didn’t have.

  
Regina gives her a look. “Don’t even start.”

  
Then, because she’s not annoyed with one person in this house, she bends down and coos over little Robyn, who is immediately taken with the gift in her hands. Emma is right, it seems.

  
“Maybe I should just give all the gifts to you, baby bird.” She says, bopping the girl lightly on the nose and making her laugh.

  
“And you say I spoil her.” Zelena comments.

  
Regina shakes her head, and the two of them retreat back to the living room, where she places the gift on top of the mantle. For a moment, she stares at it and thinks of Emma Swan, of the ridiculous woman she has grown to call a friend (family). But then her kitchen timer dings, and she remembers that she still has cookies to bake.


	2. Two Turtledoves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's day two of Emma's ridiculous gift giving venture, and Regina will not admit to any curiosity or excitement, no matter how much their son teases it. 
> 
> Also, Henry and Zelena get into a discussion about Christmas trees, Santa Claus and other strange traditions in the Land Without Magic, that Regina pointedly does not listen to (mostly because that would probably take a whole 'nother chapter to completely cover).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was planning on making these chapters each about 1000 words only, but this just kept getting longer and longer...

Regina would never admit it out loud, but she’s just a little excited (and worried) to receive Emma’s gift for her today. Though she still thinks it’s unneeded, she has to admit that being spoiled like this is nice. It’s not a sensation she’s used to, not growing up under the harsh guidance of her mother, or being forgotten in the king’s court as little more than Snow’s babysitter.

 

Unbidden, she has images of Daniel springing into her mind. He used to bring her flowers, plucked fresh from the fields and chosen for their color, the only gifts he was able to give her. But she had appreciated it more than any jewels or dresses her other suitors could give her. The ring he’d given her, made of cheap metal and with no gem to speak of, it had been worth more than all of the treasures she had ever gotten and brought to this world.

 

And she remembers, what she had done to his last, precious gift to her---that she had squandered in yet another foolish quest for vengeance, and her heart clenches in bitter regret once again. Old grief mingles with it, the scar of her first love’s loss still an ache inside her, a hole that can never quite be completely filled. That was the real reason she had not listened to Mal, had not cared about some supposed consequence of the Dark curse, because she had lived with a hole in her heart for most of her life already.

 

But she thinks it’s been healing over, thanks to her son, and the love she’s learned to feel again, for him.

 

Speaking of Henry, he’s staying over at her place today, and helping her decorate. It was one of the Christmas traditions they used to share, before (everything had gone so wrong and she’d managed to ruin the one good thing in her life _again_ ).

 

This is only the second time they’re doing this again, after the curse broke. Even after the two of them managed to repair their relationship, it was rarely quiet enough for things like this. Peace is hard won in Storybrooke, even when there is no longer an Evil Queen there to terrorize it. Even now, the two are late in their decorating, because some enterprising villain or another decided to spread a little chaos before Christmas. Thankfully, they’d managed to wrap that one up early, at least, and they could all still celebrate something of a proper holiday.

 

Her son is a teenager now, at fourteen, far from the ten year old boy with that ever-present book in his hand, let alone the preschooler who used to so enthusiastically run around on Christmas, eagerly “helping” her with all the holiday preparations.

 

Looking at him now though, stringling tinsel along the wall and arranging all the shiny plastic decorations on their tree according to the proper exacting standard they both agree on, her heart softens all the same. He might be growing up, but he’s still her little boy.

 

Besides, this year, they have an actual toddler to look after in the house again too. Little Robyn reminds her so much of Henry, but especially now, as she looks wide eyes at everything happening around her, giggling wildly when Regina waves a sprig of mistletoe in her direction.

 

Zelena is much less adorable in comparison, though she also looks around with a certain kind of confusion like her daughter. Once, she asks, incredulously, “A fat old man breaks into your houses and eats your food, but you’re all okay with it because he leaves you presents?”

 

Regina had shaken her head. “I didn’t invent the tradition, dear. You should now by now that the Land of Magic is a strange place.”

 

Even now, Zelena frowns a little at what they’re doing. “Why bring a tree inside the house? And then add useless baubles to it?” She asks from where she’s sitting on the couch, distractedly bouncing Robyn in her lap.

 

Regina turns towards her son, offering the floor to him with a gesture of her hand and an expression that says _you are the only one actually from this ridiculous land_.

 

“Uhh…” He manages eloquently, before shrugging. “Because it’s Christmas?”

 

The frown on her sister’s face only deepens.

 

Henry dips into his pocket and brings out his phone, fingers flying through the screen as he types something. Regina can only shake her head at it. Lately, that phone’s been practically fused to his side. She’s pretty sure he’s been texting some girl, though he refuses to tell her anything, and claims he’s just playing a game or doing something else.

 

Now though, he appeared to be researching the origins of a Christmas tree, because after a few minutes, he speaks up, “Apparently, the tradition of taking a tree indoors started in Germany…”

 

Regina zones out after that, shaking her head at them and turning her attention back to the decorating instead. There is still quite a lot to do, after all, and she would prefer to finish it all before dinner. Wrapped up in, well, wrapping up their rather bare tree in shiny silver tinsel, she doesn’t realize the conversation between her son and sister has ended until Henry pipes from beside her.

 

“So, what do you think Ma’s giving you today?” Henry starts casually, though the look in his eyes betrays him, as does the twitch of a smirk on his lips. That’s all Mills, she thinks, because it's the same one she sees in the mirror, and the one that always graces Zelena’s lips when she’s being extra irritating.

 

“You were there just yesterday, dear.” Regina points out, not biting at all. “Why don’t you tell me?” She’s a little curious, if she’s honest, about just how the blonde is going to be interpreting “two turtledoves”, but she’s a Mills too, and would much prefer to tease her son than indulge in a frank discussion on her feelings.

 

The fourteen-year-old pouts, and looks years younger. “Mom, that would be ruining the surprise!”

 

“So you do know then?” Regina asks, tilting her head. That isn’t too surprising, of course, because their son is honestly a little too curious for his own good, and Emma is really only slightly better than her mother at keeping secrets (which is not saying much).

 

Henry nods, grinning. “It’s going to be so awesome!” That… definitely sounds ominous. Not that their son doesn’t have good taste (Regina has spent ten years trying to instill it to some success), but he is a teenage boy, and she is a little worried by what he thinks is “awesome.”

 

Still, he is happy, and Regina cannot resist smiling a little indulgently at him. Instead of letting on to any of her worries, she asks him, “Did you help?”

 

The boy opens his mouth to reply, but the sound of the doorbell cuts off any further conversation. “It’s Ma!” He says, rather unnecessarily, but his excitement is just a little contagious, and Regina drops the decorations in her hand to go towards the door.

 

She passes Zelena on the couch, who is not even pretending to be uninterested in what happens, because she is following Regina with a smirk on her face. Frowning, she shoos the other woman away "Why don’t you go continue your _riveting_ discussion on Christmas traditions with my son, witch?”

 

“Your wish is my command, sis, but you know we’ll both just be gossiping about you.” Zelena replies, and her son, the corrupted hooligan that he is, doesn’t even deny it.

 

Shaking her head at their antics, the brunette hurries to the door instead. She swings it open, and, as expected, it’s Emma. Or, at least, she supposes it is, because whoever they are, they are covered by two gigantic stuffed animals at the moment. Specifically, it’s a giant turtle and dove, so Regina is quite certain it is the Saviour underneath the stuffed toys. Lips twitching in amusement, she takes one of the large animals, so she can at least see the other woman’s face again.

 

“Hey, Regina.” The blonde greets her with a grin and a bob of her head that sends the stuffed dove she still has in hand bobbing too. It is, though she will never admit it out loud, an _adorable_ sight.

 

“Hello, Emma.” She echoes in return, a smile twitching at her lips. Her eyes glance at the toys in each of their hands. It is one way to interpret the lyrics, she supposes. A very _Emma_ way. Still, she asks.“This is two turtle doves?”

 

The sheriff shrugs, “I figured two unique gifts would be better than just repeating the same one.” Then, she grins and pokes the turtle Regina is holding. “Plus, I thought a turtle would be so much cuter than a _turtledove_ , which, who even knows what that is?”

Regina raises a brow and doesn’t quite smirk. “I’m sure you could’ve asked your mother.” Snow White’s affinity for birds is, rather literally, quite legendary. Even cursed, she couldn’t quite get rid of the ridiculous obsession. Regina is pretty sure she still has some of the birdhouses Henry built in her class lying around in some closet somewhere, because even if it was on the command of her arch nemesis, she could never bring herself to get rid of something her son has made.

 

Clearly as aware of it as she is, Emma shudders. “Yeah, no. I don’t need a half-hour long lecture on bird species in my life, Regina.”

 

This time, she doesn’t resist the smirk. “A wise decision.”

 

“Right.” The blonde says, an amused look on her face, before it turns to something a little more teasing as she says, with the same terrible faux-casualness she’s just received from their son, “Anyway, Henry also told me how he caught you cuddling with some of his old stuffed toys when he came over unannounced the other week…”

 

Regina’s eyes bug out and she blushes fiercely as she quickly denies, “I did no such thing!” There’s a son who will be getting an earful from her after this, especially considering he promised his silence with a new computer game she will definitely be confiscating for a few months.

 

“Are you calling our son a liar?” His other mother asks, looking all too amused at her embarrassment.  

 

This nets her a glare, which, unfortunately for Regina, is far from effective coupled with a stuffed turtle in her arms. Pressing her lips together, she admits quietly, with a flush of pink to her cheeks, “They still smell like Henry.”

 

It’s not an admission she would have made a few years, or maybe even a few months, ago, but the two of them have been through hell together, rather literally, and their need and love for their son has always been something they both understood about each other. Emma proves it when she doesn’t tease her, only smiles like the sentiment makes perfect sense and says, lightly, “I’m afraid this one doesn’t yet, but we can probably pack this in with his gym bag soon.”

 

Regina chokes out a laugh, as she orders firmly. “ _Don’t you dare!_ ” Sentimental or not, she would rather not have something smelling like her teenage son’s sweaty jerseys in her bed (when did she decide that would be where this ridiculous plush you should go?).

 

The other woman only looks innocently at her, completely unrepentant. Then, her expression shifts to something a little more shy and awkward, as she quietly admits, a truth for a truth, “I didn’t really get a lot of toys growing up either, but I always wanted something soft and cuddly, to sleep with at night, you know?” She shrugs, admitting, even more quietly. “It would have helped.”

 

This too, Regina understands. Her hands clench a little tighter around the plush turtle, and she nods. It is soft and warm, and she tries not to think of being a little girl alone in a cold room, clutching at her blankets and trying To get rid of the echo of Mother’s latest stern rebukes. “Thank you.” She says instead, trying to imbue the world with all she cannot bear to say.

 

Once again, Emma looks like she hears it anyway. “You're welcome.” Then, she shoves the other stuffed animal, still in her hands, forward, as she adds, “Don’t forget your dove.”

 

“Of course,” Regina notes, as she carefully take the other gift and arranges the two oversized plush toys around her arms so that she might still be able to see. “I hope I’m not getting three stuffed hens for tomorrow.”

 

Her light tease draws a pout. “No fishing for hints. That’ll ruin the surprise!”

 

It’s almost exactly their son’s reaction and Regina cannot help but laugh. Emma pouts a little harder at this, but her mood is quick to bounce back. Soon, they are saying goodbyes, with the blonde regrettably needing to go back to the station, while she returns into the warmth of the house, where her son and her sister are waiting at the hall, eying her with identical smirks on their faces.

 

Regina blushes, just a little, but she remains calm as she says, “Shouldn’t you be decorating?” Then, she trudges up the stairs and deposits Emma’s gifts on her bed in the master bedroom. They look rather horribly out of place in the modern, tastefully decorated interiors, but some part of her thinks they fit anyway. Just like Emma.


	3. Three French Hens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regina wakes to the sound of noise coming from downstairs. Alarmed, she hurries down to find Emma and Henry in her kitchen, Zelena and little Robyn looking curiously on, and an achingly familiar scent wafting through the room...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and so, it gets even longer... I'm starting to get the impression this is like an exponential thing and will only keep growing the more I write, hahaha. (don't be disappointed if it doesn't though, please)
> 
> Also, this is the loosest interpretation of the song lyrics yet, so, uh, be warned.

Regina wakes up cuddling a stuffed turtle in her arms. Still lulled into a sleepy daze, she nuzzles against it unconsciously, hugging it tighter towards her, until she realizes what she is doing and remembers herself. Flushing with embarrassment, she quickly lets go of the plush toy, placing it further back into the bed as she rises.

 

When the brunette gets up, she find that Emma’s other gift to her has fallen to the floor sometime in the night. Regina frowns at the sight of the poor white dove on the ground. Seeing it there tugs at something inside her, and she quickly she picks it up and dusts it off before settling it atop the bed once more. She’ll have to be more careful, she notes. Then she turns and heads for the bathroom, where she starts getting ready for the day.

Regina would never want to go back to the lonely days spent all alone in the manor before Henry arrived, or when he was otherwise lost to her, as in the first and second curses (and sometimes she just shakes her head at the fact that she has to distinguish, that there’s even a _third_ curse too). But there are times when she does miss having some privacy and peace to herself. Especially now that there’s a baby in the house again, it can all get just a little too chaotic.

 

These are just idle thoughts though, that she would never truly wish for, because this ridiculous, messy family of hers, with their awful teasing and noise are everything she ever dreamed of as a young girl in a lonely, large house, wishing on stars and fairies who would damn her because of her blood (all except for one, but that wasn’t a story that ended well either, and perhaps that was when she learned to give up on wishes). So, though she grumbles and snarks her way through every chaotic family interaction, she wouldn’t wish it any other way.

 

Still, she enjoys this short time to herself, as she completes her morning absolutions to a soundtrack of temporary blissful silence, the kind only possible in the early morning before no one else has awakened.

 

Or at least, that’s her plan. But, as she briefly returns to her bedroom for a change of clothes before her shower, she hears a loud clanging noise that has her freezing in place. It’s coming from downstairs, she judges, and alarm bells ring in her head. She’s almost always the first one awake in the house, barring little Robyn, and thus her mother as well, on occasion, but Zelena never ventures downstairs until there’s coffee and breakfast brewing in the kitchen. Henry has to forced out of bed these days, his growth spurt coinciding with a gluttony for sleep that typically has him waking at noon (or later) during holidays.

 

So, wary of something wrong, quickly throwing on a robe over her nightgown, she hurries out of her bedroom and down the steps. Once she reaches the bottom, it is easy to identify where the noise is coming from, and she heads there immediately.

 

The sight that greets her has her stopping in her tracks once again, her eyes widening in surprise. Emma is here, in her kitchen, cooking something up in their kitchen with their son, while Zelena and little Robyn hover, curiously looking on at what is happening. Regina is utterly perplexed, and more than a little worried considering the blonde’s rather infamous abilities (or lack thereof) in the kitchen.

 

But before she can think further, the _smell_ of whatever it is they are brewing in her kitchen reaches her. The scent of it so familiar and yet long forgotten that Regina is struck like lightning by the memories it brings up.

 

When she was very young, and they still lived in her father’s kingdom, she remembers the scent of this in the kitchens every morning. The head cook was a middle-aged woman with a loud, booming laugh who she called Tía Jimena. She used to sneak her little snacks before meals when she wandered and sometimes let her help by washing vegetables or carefully measuring flour, before Mother had found out and put a stop to it. But she had never been able to stop her from visiting completely, not then, not in a castle where she had little power as the wife of a prince fifth in line to the throne. So, she had loved to go down and watch the woman work, expert hands making delicious treats out of yucky looking things (or so her young mind had seen it). And at any given time inside it, there was the sweet melodic sound of the kingdom’s language…

 

“ _Ah, estás despierto!_ ” Emma’s voice brings her out of her thoughts, but not entirely, it seems, because she swears she heard her speak in her father’s native tongue, garbled slightly, but still distinctly recognizable. _You're awake!_

Shaking her head, she tries to regain her bearings and asks, apologetically, “I beg your pardon?”

 

Emma smiles at her, and says, “ _Hicimos el desayuno, Regina_.”

 

So she didn’t hear wrong then, she concludes. _We made breakfast._ Emma tells her, acting like this is all an absolutely ordinary part of her day---as though she regularly break into (but not really, because she has a key) and takes over her kitchen to cook some mysterious meal while speaking to her in Spanish. _No, nothing out of the ordinary here_ , she thinks sarcastically, and half wishes this were some new villain’s work, because that at least, would make some sense.

 

Not like this. Though part of her wants to start demanding answers immediately, Regina finds that she is still too stunned, and that she can only stare at the blonde in front of her, utterly nonplussed by this turn of events. She must still be dreaming. That is the only proper explanation...

 

“ _Es tu regalo de navidad_ , _mami_ .” It’s Henry who finally explains what is going on. Or tries to. She still doesn’t understand, but the way the words curl on his tongue so sweetly make her smile. The way he doesn’t quite have the accent right, not after years of disuse, only makes her heart melt more because it’s so uniquely _his_ voice. Besides, it matches her own, which is far from a native’s by this point.

 

Regina might still be dreaming, but it’s a beautiful one, and she almost doesn’t want to wake up. Some part of her almost expects to turn and see her father there, beaming at her and wanting to pull her into a hug. Maybe even Tía Jimena will pop out of the corner, start shaking a wooden spoon and clucking at her about the proper way to stir a stew.

 

“ _Mi regalo de navidad?_ ” Regina echoes, and the words taste just a little strange on her tongue. It’s been many, _many_ years since she’s spoken the language with any kind of frequency.

 

Not long after those early years, her grandfather’s kingdom had fallen into disgrace and they’d fled to another, where Mother had banned all of its language and culture out of the house, under the reasoning that they were in a different area now, with different rules (but she had never liked any of it, had never been able to properly speak the tongues, and there was that too).

 

Even so, Regina remembers her father speaking it with her in secret, and some of their household staff chattering in it amongst themselves when out of Lady Cora’s hearing. All of it means, though, that she’s never had the most practice in it. Later, with her mother shoved into a mirror, she could speak it freely with her father. Those moments had been small sparks of light and joy in the dark time that was the period she was Leopold’s queen. But they had all been brief, fleeting, and nothing like the warm childhood days she could still recall.

 

“Si!” Henry replies to her question, nodding eagerly as he elaborates. “ _Para tres gallinas francesas_.”

 

 _The three French hens?_ Regina frowns, not quite getting the connection. Her mind feels sluggish, slowed by the weight of memories she hasn’t touched in decades. Confused, she slips into English again as she asks, “What?”

 

Perhaps Zelena feels just a little left out in all of this, or many she’s just decided to put Regina out of her misery, because she pipes up then, also in English, “This is apparently the Saviour’s present for the day. A celebration of your heritage from your father, apparently.”

 

This is the signal to start speaking in English again, apparently, because Emma takes over in saying, “It was Henry’s idea.” She throws their son a look that is fond and proud all at once, before adding, with a smirk. “Well, partly. I was joking about how I could just give him to you for the third day, since ‘hen’ is basically ‘Henry’, but he started taking it seriously.”

 

The terrible pun certainly sounds like Emma’s idea of humor, and this just confirms that the two are most certainly conspiring in this crazy gift giving venture, though Henry’s hints and the fact that she sound the two of them cooking this morning were certainly clue enough. Still, it makes something warm bubble inside her to see the two so close with each other, and all for her sake. The part of her, that still believes she doesn’t know how to love well or receive it in return, the part that was nurtured by her mother and created on the day of Daniel’s death---that part can hardly believe it.

 

She turns to her son, her sweet beautiful boy who is looking unusually shy as he quietly explains, “I thought about the French part, and I remembered how we used to speak Spanish...”

 

It seems like today truly is one for honouring memories long past. The admission takes her back, to years ago.

 

When she cast the Dark Curse, after the initial glee had faded and the dull monotony of ruling a town that never changed had set it, Regina had started researching into this world with a fervor. One of the most interesting things she’d learned was that there was a place very much like her grandfather’s old kingdom and lands. Spanish, they called it here, with several variations on it for different areas. It wasn’t exactly the same as what they’d spoken, but it was very close (the closest, in the most ways, she found, was the land of Puerto Rico). Here, the language and culture thrived, at least, in certain parts of the world. All of it had been far from Storybrooke, Maine, but just the knowledge it was there had made her smile (a small, genuine one that had been unseen for ages then).

 

Despite (or perhaps, because--Regina recognizes that she tends to self-sabotage her happiness entirely too often) her feelings on the matter, for the longest time, that had been it. She had never been able to leave her cursed town, and though she’d read books and watched films, and later searched on her computer for information about it, she had never done anything with it. It remained a world untouched to her, much like the lost kingdom of King Xavier, and the fond childhood memories it contained.

 

Until Henry arrived. It hadn’t been immediate, no. In that first year or two, she’d been kept busy just trying to care for this tiny helpless human being who depended completely on her. All her spare time, what little of it she had, was spent on researching into how to properly raise a child (because, she knew it was nothing like how she had been, though her father, bless his soul, had tried). It wasn’t until his babbling at her had taken on the shape of actual recognizable words that Regina realized she had an opportunity, to honor his namesake and reclaim some lost part of her childhood and heritage.

 

So, Regina started teaching him little bits of Spanish in between all the English, though never in public, because even after all these years, and no Mother around to disapprove, some part of her still associated the language with secrecy. Still, when she could, she told him _manzanas_ along with _apples_ , taught him how to roll his Rs and spoke of carefully dressed-up stories of her ancestral homeland. She looked through cookbooks and internet recipes and searched through her own faded memories, recreating the food she’d loved in her childhood. It had been wonderful and beautiful and she’d wanted to think that her father would have been happy to see it (she ignored the familiar spark of guilt, the self-hate at the thought of why he never would).

 

But, as with most good things in her life, it did not last. He was mostly bilingual in his first few years (much like her), but once he started school, started interacting more with kids his own age (though they never aged along with him), he used it less. No one else spoke it, and it became something that made him (even more) different. Some of the children would tease him about it, and, after a time, he only ever used it around her. Until, even that started growing more infrequent, as he began to realize that something was wrong and he pulled away from her. By the time he’d run off on his own and brought home his birth mother, he had not spoken a word of Spanish in years.

 

“I… I didn’t realize that you wanted to again.” Regina says, after a long pause, looking at her son, who flinches a little in guilt at her words, though it was not her intention. After Henry had found out about the curse, and after it broke and confirmed everything he thought about her, she did not think he would ever come back to her again. To have him in her home, calling her mother and smiling at her, it is more than she ever expected, and it had never occurred to her to ask for more.

 

The fourteen-year-old looked away briefly, before admitting, “I know that things were… bad, for a while, and a lot of things changed or got forgotten. I was hurt and confused, and angry at you for a long time.” Regina wants to tell him to stop, that there’s no need to go poking at old wounds, not when they’re in such a good place right now, but it’s clear that he wants, needs, to say this, so she keeps her silence.

 

“I stopped speaking Spanish, because it was something you taught me and spoke with me. I think, at one point, I even thought it was an ‘evil’ language because of that.” He laughs a little self-deprecatingly, shaking his head at his younger, foolish self. “But… I think some part of me always missed it, missed all of our little things and traditions together.”

 

Henry looks towards the living room, which they had just decorated yesterday, and says, “I’ve kind of wanted to start speaking it again, for a while now, but I didn’t really know how. Every time I opened my mouth to say something Spanish, I couldn’t.” The teenager shakes his head, but Regina understands.

 

It hard, to start again, after you’ve stopped. For a long time, the words felt awkward and strange to her, nothing like the old memories she could recall. She felt like a fraud, a failure who disgraced her heritage by not being able to do better. Perhaps this isn’t quite what her son is feeling, but it is similar enough.

 

“Anyway, Ma just joked about it, and I got the idea---it was just, the perfect opportunity.” In the end, Henry shrugs, as though it’s not a big deal, like he hadn’t just resurrected a whole other language for them to use again.

 

Either way, he seems to be done speaking now, so Regina takes the opportunity to move towards him and engulf him in a tight, almost bone-crushing hug. Her son yelps a little in surprise and slight pain, but quickly returns the gesture. He is tall, taller than her now, so when they hug, she only reaches his chest, but still, in that moment, it feels like years ago when they were each other’s whole world. “Muchas gracias, mi principito.” She whispers, into his neck, because even now, so grown, he is still her little prince, always.

 

They don’t let go for a long time, it seems, enough that Zelena, with all her great timing, cuts in. “I don’t mean to ruin this heartwarming moment and all, but I want to point out that breakfast is done and getting cold.”

 

Regina pulls back to send her sister a glare, but they break apart anyway, and head for the table. Beside her, Henry grins, tugging her faster as he says, “Vamos a comer, mami.”

 

They sit, and Regina finds this is where the familiar scent is coming from. There are a few things on the table, that she recognizes immediately, if not by sight (because some of it does look a little off-colour from what she remembers), then by smell at least. “You cooked _Arroz con leche, Pan de Mallorca_ and _Tortilla de Huevos?_ ” She directs the question at Emma and her son, looking surprised and impressed.

 

“It was mostly, Henry, actually,” Emma admits, just a little grumpily. Crossing her arms, she throws a look at their son and says pointedly, “Because he kept swatting me away for doing it ‘wrong’--even though I was following the recipe!”

 

“Maybe, but it wasn’t how Mom did it.” He says primly, adding. “Besides, you nearly burnt the bread, so I basically saved breakfast. _Again._ ”

 

“Okay, that happened with the toaster once, kid. Once!” The blonde replies exasperatedly, pouting as she pleas. “Stop bringing it up already. Look, your mom is laughing at me!”

 

Regina is, and she can’t even deny it because she is laughing too hard. Everyone else is smiling too, even Emma, who can’t quite maintain her pout at the sight of the brunette looking so happy. At one end of the table, Zelena looks amused too, though mostly at the sight of her sister practically guffawing. Sitting on her laugh, little Robyn breaks out into high-pitched giggles, spurred on by her aunt’s laughing. The witch turns her attention to her daughter instead, cooing, “Look at your aunt and family, aren’t they just silly?”

 

After a few moments, Regina manages to regain enough composure, and starts to dig into the virtual feast her son and his other mother have prepared. It’s good, almost unexpectedly so, because despite his words against Emma, she know the teenager isn’t really that much better in the kitchen. It doesn’t taste quite like how she remembers, but it’s just right anyway. “Esto es delicioso, mi principito.” She tells Henry sincerely, grinning.

 

“Hey, cociné también!” Emma interjects, and she turns to see the blonde pouting at her. The words, again, come stilted out of her, but they are technically accurate enough, and she says, in surprise, “I didn’t know you spoke Spanish, Emma.”

 

The sheriff looks a little embarrassed to be called out, and she shrugs, explaining, “I don’t, not really. I picked some up over the years from all the places I’ve been, but it’s most, uh, swear words and a few practical stuff.” Pinking even more, she admits, “I basically searched and memorized some relevant terms for today, and got Henry to check if it was all correct.”

 

“Ma had a yellow pad sheet full of it, Mom.” Their son corrects, with a grin, because he has no qualms about teasing either of his mothers. “I think she wants to learn Spanish from you.”

“Is that true, Emma?” The mayor shifts, and asks, an amused lilt to her voice because she isn’t above teasing either.

 

The blonde flushes again, and it is honestly a good look on her, Regina notices. “Maybe. Like, you’re still teaching me magic, anyway. So, you could add Spanish lessons too, right?” She says, laughing a little but sounding uncertain all the same.

 

Regina smiles, and replies, quite firmly, “Of course.” The returning grin this brings, banishes any doubts she might have about such a decision. Perhaps they could even combine them both, she muses, though that sounds like a recipe for disaster considering the Saviour’s continuing issues with control.

 

“Hmm… I think perhaps I would like to join as well.” Zelena notes, and everyone’s gaze turns to her. Looking a little offended, she reasons, “What? I am part of this family too, you know.” There is just the slightest hint of insecurity in her voice, which makes Regina hurt for her sister.

 

“You can join in too, Zelena.” The brunette declares, just as firmly, which makes the redhead nod, satisfied.

 

On her lap, Robyn bounces and tries to grab at her mother’s hair. Said mother wryly adds, “I think perhaps your little niece wants to learn as well.” Everyone laughs, and Regina reaches over to tickle the toddler, making her giggle and let go of Zelena’s hair all at once.

 

They return to breakfast, talking lightheartedly and sometimes over each other, as they eat the food (or the closest approximation of it, anyway), of her grandfather’s fallen kingdom. It might be Regina’s favorite gift so far, though when she says so out loud, Emma only grins and tells her to wait for the rest. Henry shares in the Cheshire grin then, and though part of her still worries a little, mostly, she is excited.

 

If every gift is as great as this, she thinks she has nothing to worry about.

 

Well, except for group Spanish lessons, apparently.

  
Because this is how the group Spanish lessons start. As a gift for her, she will later note wryly. But, it is. Even when she will gain a headache from trying to wrangle her sister, her niece and her.. Emma into some semblance of order, she will love it (and them), all the same. Because they are her family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't speak it, so Spanish is all off Google and what little of it is kinda borrowed into Filipino (which I do speak), so sorry for any inaccuracies. The dishes cooked are all Puerto Rican breakfast foods taken from Wiki so that might, uh, also be inaccurate, haha.


	4. Four Calling Birds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regina waits, just a little impatiently, for the bell to ring. But when it finally does, it's not Emma at her door, but Snow White, with her usual sense of impeccable timing. Only, the blonde does appear after all, in a flash of magic and tangled limbs, flinging accusations of sabotage at her mother.
> 
> It only gets stranger from there...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snow finally appears! 
> 
> I actually intended for her to appear at the last chapter, along with Charming, but it didn't quite work out and I liked this better. Uh, David's still not here, but he'll be showing up soon! ...probably. 
> 
> Also, yay, for this being longer after all?
> 
> And, uh, some loose interpretation again... it's basically going to keep being pretty loose, really. Haha.

The next day Regina wakes and spends most of the morning just a little distracted. She tries not to let her gaze wander towards the hallway near the door or look out the windows, but she doesn’t do the best job if the way the other two inhabitants of the house smirk at her says anything. As they eat breakfast, Regina tries to casually ask her son about his other mother, but he is tight-lipped.

  
“ _No arruines la sorpresa._ ” He chides, echoing his old words in sweet Spanish and Regina melts a little at that despite the annoyance at being kept in the dark. Where this sudden obsession with surprises has come from, she does not know, but she can’t begrudge it when it makes his eyes sparkle and his lips twitch into a grin. Regina would her heart and soul and mind to her son, and this is a small drop in comparison.

  
So, she shakes her head and smiles, pointing to the talks of asparagus he’s left untouched on the side of his plate. “ _Coma sus verduras, hijo mío._ ” Clearly, his eating habits have not grown as well as his newfound height.

  
“ _Si, mami_ ,” he sighs, as though she has put a large heavy task upon his shoulders.

  
To the side, Zelena pouts a little at the Spanish being spoken, because a day’s lessons are not enough to grant fluency and Regina relents, though some part of her is afraid still that if they stop they will not speak it again, because she knows from experience how easy it is to lose a language to the new world around them, no matter how ingrained it is in your bones (she knows, of course, that this is unlikely, that her son will not let it happen again, but still, the old fear gnaws at her).

  
“I see you’ve left your vegetables as well, dear sister.” Regina remarks, eying the other woman’s plate pointedly.

  
Zelena rolls her eyes and deliberately stabs her fork into one of the stalks, but she is appeased by the concession (and the attention on her, because the redhead has always yearned for that as much as Regina has for love). “Happy now, sis?”

  
The brunette shakes her head with an exasperated sigh, returning to her own plate and the topics around the table shift to other things.

  
After that, Henry leaves early, perhaps a little suspiciously, though he claims he’s just headed to the loft to help babysit Neal for a few hours. There’s a certain twinkle in his eyes that betrays his faux-innocence, but she lets it slide. She walks him out to the door with reminders to keep his coat on and helps him wind a long scarf around his neck despite his protests he can do it himself. It’s not quite as annoyed or heated as it used to be, so perhaps he’s grown enough now to not mind being treated as a child again every once in awhile. Or perhaps he’s simply taking the path of least resistance that will allow him to get away faster.

  
Regardless of the cause, she greets him off with a short press of lips to his cheek and a soft, “ _Cuidarse!_ ” Because though it’s been quiet of late, you never know what dangers will befall their magical town next.

  
Then, Regina goes back inside, after lingering for just a little longer than usual to see him off and perhaps hope for a glimpse of blonde hair to walk forward. But there is nothing, so she shuts the door and returns to the warmth of the kitchen, where she finishes cleaning up.

  
It doesn’t take long, and soon, she is relaxing into one of the couches in the living room, soaking up the warmth of the fire. There is a book she is half-reading on her lap, but the words don’t quite enter her mind and she finds herself looking up more often than not, gaze slithering to the clock and out to the window, feeling somewhere between impatient and worried. For the past three days, the blonde has arrived early with her gift, and Regina does not know what to make of this. Will this gift be more complicated than the rest? Or is she being held up for a different reason?

  
Though she keeps her worries inside herself, she doesn’t do quite a good enough job. From the other couch, Zelena raises a brow at her, looking all too amused by her obvious anticipation, teasing, “Waiting for something, dear?”

  
Feeling more worried than excited, Regina throws her an annoyed look, and says, a little more cuttingly than intended, “If you’re not going to say anything useful, don’t say anything at all.”

  
There’s a moment of silence after that, heavy and weighed down with old wounds. Regina feels her breath catch in her throat and Zelena grows still, smirk twitching into a frown. Things are good between them now, but it’s still a fragile thing, one that bends and bruises easily with a slip of a tongue or a spark of temper.

  
But then, Robyn gurgles loudly from the floor, where she is playing with some toys, breaking the silence and just like that, the tension is broken. Their gaze turns toward the little girl, and it’s a pointed reminder of what’s important.

  
Zelena says, mildly, “She probably just slept in and woke late.”

  
It’s not an apology, but Regina nods, because it might as well be. Part of her still worries, but she manages to keep her calm now. A little wryly, she admits, “It would be quite in character for her, yes.” They don’t need to talk about who they mean, of course, and Zelena gives a small smirk at her comment.

  
Before they can speak more, the doorbell rings, and Regina feels her heart leap into her throat. Abruptly, she stands up, throwing a look at her sister to stay where she is as she quickly leaves the other woman on the couch and heads to the door. There, she pauses to take a deep breath, then swings in open, ready to find out what Emma has planned to give her for today when---

  
...it’s _Snow_. Of course. The woman has always had the worst timing, starting with catching her just as she was about to run away with her lover, and continuing to this day, clearly. Instead of blonde hair and green eyes, there’s dark hair and infuriatingly cheerful smile, all wrapped up in ridiculous fluffy winter clothes that are decorated with birds, because the other woman seems to be under the impression that this is the height of fashion.

  
“What is it?” Regina asks bluntly, trying not to sound too annoyed and likely failing. Not that she much cares. Though she might’ve made peace and buried the hatchet with her former stepdaughter some time ago, that doesn’t mean everything is sunshine and rainbows with them. She’s not that kind of person and they don’t have that kind of relationship (she ignores, forgets, that once upon a time ago, she was and they were, just a teenager and a young girl who adored her).

  
At the less than stellar reception to her appearance, Snow raises a brow and says, with a bit of a pout that reminds her of a much younger version of the woman, “Try not to look too disappointed to see me, Regina.”

  
The mayor only rolls her eyes and forcibly banishes the image of spoiled preteen princess from her mind. “What do you want, Snow?”

  
It’s probably some inane reason or another, but she can’t help a small spark of anxiety. What disaster has hit Storybrooke this time? What does she need to save Snow White from now? It’s a testament to how ridiculous her life is that such worries are entirely valid and commonplace.

  
But Snow shakes her head, completely ignoring her annoyed tone as she smiles brightly, announcing with her signature cheer, “I’m here to give you today’s gift.” She doesn’t elaborate but the meaning is clear enough. Not that she can believe it.

  
“ _What?_ ” Regina asks, in a tone that mostly means, you’re kidding, right?

  
She must have heard wrong, because Emma could not honestly think any gift hand-delivered by Snow White is anywhere on her wishlist. They are family, for better or worse (it depends on the day and how much the other woman has managed to annoy her that week), but Regina already has entirely too many ugly Christmas sweaters and even uglier knick knacks fermenting her her closet as proof of Snow’s terrible taste in gifts.

  
The other woman opens her mouth to explain, but before she can, a tall blonde materializes in a poof of magic, almost stumbling in a pile of long limbs before Regina catches and rights her again. There’s a large bag one of her hands, though she hardly notices because the sheriff is warm to the touch despite the cold weather, yet the heat only makes her inexplicably shudder. Some unknown emotion trembles inside her, and she doesn’t quite now know what to think. Thankfully, her reaction is missed in the ensuing chaos of this sudden appearance.

  
“ _Emma!_ ” Snow’s startled cry signals that this is not part of whatever plan the two have joined forces to concoct. That doesn’t bring her much comfort. There’s no time to ask for explanation,as the two seem to forget her existence for the moment as they confront each other.

  
The blonde turns to face her mother, huffing exasperated as she accuses, “ _Seriously_ , Mom? You set Dad on me? And put Henry on Neal duty?”

  
Snow has the courtesy to look mildly guilty but she quickly explains, “Well, you wouldn’t let me do this! Even though I told you she would love it.”

  
Observing this silently, things start to click into place. Well, that explains her son’s departure, Regina supposes, though not by much. She’s still not quite sure she is understanding what is happening right now. Are the two fighting… over what to give her? It’s a ridiculous thought, and an utterly foreign one that she wants to reject immediately on principle.

  
“No offense, but I think I know better than you about what she would ‘ _love_ ’.” Emma points out, not adding that her mother is truly just a poor judge of tasteful gifts all around, as all her itchy sweaters prove.

  
“I’ve lived with her years!” Snow rebuts, looking highly offended. “And today’s theme is _birds_ \---who knows more about that than _I_ do?”

  
Emma opens her mouth to respond, but Regina cuts through the ensuing argument with a frown and a look at both of them. “I’m still waiting for a proper explanation here.” Said argument has given her some idea of what’s going on but she would prefer actual words directed at her. Mostly because she wasn’t sure she could accept the conclusion she had come to.

  
Mother and daughter eye each other for a moment before Emma turns and explains, “I had a gift for you all planned out, but Mom heard about it and ‘ _had a better idea_.’” Emma’s tone makes it clear she does not agree with the statement.

  
“I overheard Emma talking over preparations with Henry, and I can’t believe she didn’t tell me anything!” Snow remarks, crossing her arms indignantly. “And after two bird-related gifts too.”

  
The blonde sighs, saying tiredly, “I told you, I’m sorry about not including you but I was trying to maintain Regina’s _privacy_. I didn’t want the whole town to know about it and start giving us looks or anything.”

  
It’s a not so subtle jab at Snow’s continued inability to keep a secret (unless it’s one of her own, Regina notes, remembering the incident with Mal’s egg with bitterness), and the other woman flinches.

  
She doesn’t bother trying to defend her ability to keep her mouth shut, but she does say, pointedly, “Well, since I found out anyway, you could have included me then!”

  
Emma raises a hand to her temple for a moment, brows furrowing in frustration, before she releases a long breath, “ _Ugh, fine!_ Just give her your present already, then.”

  
“I don’t need your permission, Emma, but thank you all the same.” Snow says primly and ignored the annoyed growl this elicits from her daughter. Turning to Regina, she says cheerfully, “Now, get ready for ‘ _four calling birds’!_ ”

  
That’s all the explanation she gets, before Snow presses two fingers to her lips and whistles once, loudly. For a moment, nothing seems to happen, and Regina is ready to open her mouth for some kind of sarcastic remark, when she suddenly hears the flapping of wings. A _lot_ of it, all at once.

  
At Snow’s call, a flock of birds of various species have suddenly flown towards, all landing nimbly atop the various shrubbery in her garden. This is rather more than four calling birds, because there must be about a dozen birds right now. What they are supposed to do, however, she has no clue (or, she suspects, but she dearly hopes she is wrong).

  
Before she even has time to properly consider this develop, Snow whistles again, and the birds begin to sing. It is disturbingly coordinated and chaotic all at once, as the woman lifts her hands in the air, like a conductor and opens her mouth to hum along to this chorus of birdsong. Some part of her registers that the tune is very familiar, garbled through animal chirping as it is. Most of her is just standing in disbelief over what is happening.

  
There are _birds_. On her front porch. _Singing_ to her. Like some kind of bird choir. All under the direction of Snow White. And this is all supposed to be her Christmas gift.

  
This cannot possibly be real, Regina thinks, as she takes in the sight before her. She must be dreaming. Clearly, she drank a little too much eggnog with Zelena last night and now she is paying for it with this nonsensical nightmare playing out in front of her.

  
But when she pinches her side, there is only a small stab of pain, and the birds remain. Utterly oblivious to her shock and disbelief, they continue their strange, echoing song that only vaguely resembles what Regina guesses is Jingle Bells, but might be Let It Snow for all she knows. This must be her punishment, for all those years she chased after her stepdaughter like a madwoman. Snow White has clearly been planning and delaying her revenge all this time, waiting for just the right moment to strike.  
  
But Emma is looking at her, at once apologetic and amused. When she sends her a look that clearly conveys the ridiculousness of the situation, the blonde only shrugs, but her smile grows.

  
The bird choir continues, and some part of her thinks about how Henry is missing this. He would probably appreciate this, she thinks. So would Robyn, now that she thinks about it. 

  
Almost as if called by her thoughts, she feels movement behind her, and Zelena is moving closer, toting her daughter in her arms. The redhead’s expression is as incredulous as Regina feels, but little Robyn is all smiles, and she coos loudly at the birds and their noise (not to mention whatever Snow is doing). The two stand, just a step behind her to watch the ridiculous spectacle on her front lawn. Regina is honestly surprised it hasn’t drawn anyone else put and is glad she doesn’t have too many neighbors (reformed or not, most of the residents are still wary around the former Evil Queen).

  
After what might be minutes or hours, the singing finally stops.

  
Robyn continues to giggle, wriggling in her mother’s arms until Zelena decides to take her back in before she dives forward to pet/attack one of the birds. She sends Regina a look as she passes, one that says Snow White is utterly crazy. The mayor completely agrees, but unfortunately, said woman is also her family and waiting for her reaction to her… gift.

  
It takes entirely too long to make her throat unfreeze and speak, but after a long moment, Regina looks at Snow’s expectant face and says slowly, “That was… very _unique_.” They’re the most neutral thing she can think to say, because mostly, she just wants to keep checking if she’s still dreaming.

  
Snow beams, like she has just been given a great compliment, and Regina wants to shake her head and say something cutting, because even now, a joyous Snow White still tends to irritate her.

  
But she thinks of Henry and of Emma, who is standing right there and who would probably not take kindly to attacks on her mother, even after their fighting and this ridiculous charade. She considers the nebulous Christmas spirit this world is always spouting about this day, and she restrains herself. Summoning all the goodwill she can muster towards her former stepdaughter, which is more than she wants to admit at this point, after everything they’ve been through, and she manages to say, with a measure of sincerity, “Thank you, Snow.”

  
If possible, Snow seems to smile even wider, looking downright as she stands on her doorstep. “You’re welcome, Regina.” She replies, looking like she would take a bow if she could.

  
Then, she frowns, shooting a disapproving look at her daughter, “I’m still annoyed with you for not saying anything about this sooner.” Emma’s only response is to only response is to shake her head and huff annoyedly. Oblivious, Snow continues, “I would have joined in yesterday if I’d known!”

  
Regina does not show her instinctual alarm or distaste at this thought, but it’s a near thing.

  
“¡ _Somos su familia también!_ ” Snow says firmly, in an accent that makes Emma’s sound like an experienced native’s. If it had sounded strange from the blonde’s mouth, it is truly incongruous to hear it from Snow.

  
But.

  
Unlike her son, or his other mother, Snow knows about her grandfather’s kingdom, from old history lessons and its scattered people---including her and her father. It was many, many years ago, but she remembers, a sheltered princess asking curiously about the secret unknown language she spoke with her father when he visited. Regina had been as tight-lipped as she could, mouth strained into a forced smile as she tried to direct the girl’s interest away from this last precious thing of hers, fearful and angry of it being snatched away from her.

  
Looking at her now, with her fierce smile and eyes full of soft affection, Regina wonders if Snow still remembers that, if she is pulling these words from the recollections of a world far away and lost to both of them. She is no longer that young queen, desperately guarding all the tiny broken remnants of her heart from cruel, innocent hands, and Snow is no longer that naive selfish girl who could scarcely see a world beyond her own.

  
Now, Regina can summon a smile, a small twitch of her lips that speaks volumes, and echoes, almost entirely without anger and bitterness, “ _Si, somos familia._ ” Because it's true. They are family, and she's accepted it.

  
The smile this gains her in reply reminds Regina so much of her daughter in that moment, and she’s not sure she’s ever seen the resemblance quite so clearly. It makes her heart ache a little, in ways she doesn’t quote understand. Some part of her wants to throw her hands up and huff, because this is a very tangled web they weave.

  
They share a moment of understanding, and though she already knows, of course, this is further proof that Snow has grown and maybe she has too. Neither of them are who they were, but maybe, they can find something in its ashes and be something better. The part of her that is a hurt confused girl forced to grow too old, the part that had been forced into the role of Snow White’s stepmother feels just a little soothed, an old wound closing up just a little.

  
Then, Emma coughs lightly, looking awkward and caught when Regina shifts her gaze towards her. “Um, I have a gift too, if you still want it?” She suddenly seems small and insecure, shuffling her feet in the snow, mysterious bag still heavy in her hands.

  
A little worried at the sight of this, Regina nonetheless tries for lightness as she replies, “Who would turn down a free gift?” Of course, she knows better than most how gifts are never “free”, but that is not a crime at the Saviour’s feet, so she shakes it off and offers a smile.

  
Snow, feeling quite magnanimous now that she has given Regina her gift, and no longer frustrated, nudges her daughter eagerly. “Come on, Emma! Show her your gift too. I don’t know why we didn’t just think do this sooner.”

  
That sounds more than a little worrying. Regina hopes she does not end up with more gifts from Snow for the rest of the eight days Emma has planned, because she is sure her poker face will crack at some point and she will either laugh at Snow’s ridiculous attempt or snap and throw a fireball at her. Neither result will make for a good Christmas gathering, and she has already planned the menu for eight people, and she would rather not invite any more of the townspeople into her home.

  
That’s a worry for the future though, so she tables it for now and looks towards Emma, holding out a hand as she notes, “I’m waiting…”

  
Her gaze goes to the bag in her hand, plain but sturdy looking. Emma swallows for a moment, before she sticks a hand in and carefully lifts something out. It’s revealed to be a beautiful obsidian sculpture of a raven perched on a rock with its wings spread out. Regina steps closer unconsciously, and something shines. Two deep purple gems have been set for its eyes, she realizes, and she smiles.

  
“It’s _beautiful_ …” She breathes out. The brunette has no true fondness for birds, honestly, thanks to their infamous allegiance and association with her former archenemy, but also because, she could remember all too clearly being a child bound under her mother’s magic or locked into her room and the flight of all the birds she could glance from her window that made jealousy and bitterness bleed through her. Ravens are not much different, but she feels some small sense of kinship with them, for their reputations for darkness that she finds all too relatable.

  
Regina looks up to meet bright green eyes filled with far too much emotion. It is her turn to swallow, and she wonders, again, at how much those eyes see of her. How much do they know? “Thank you, Emma.” She says, voice mostly solid, to her relief.

  
The blonde shrugs, forever bashful about all her gifts, acting as though none of them are a big deal. Part of Regina wants to shake her, seriously tell her how much all of it means to her. But that is not what they do, especially not in front of Snow’s watchful gaze.

  
There’s a moment of silence, as Emma hands the gift over, before she rambles in explanation, “I googled it online, and it turns out that calling birds aren’t an actual species of bird, but they used to call ravens that, so.” She gestures vaguely to the sculpted raven now in Regina’s hands.

  
“I thought about getting you a real raven, like one of those familiar things that witches have in movies and all.” She looks just a bit wistful, and Regina wants to asks why, but she hold her tongue, all too aware of their audience.

  
Emma shrugs again, and she adds dryly. “But Gold told me that wasn’t a real thing and that ravens do not make good pets.” Regina suspects the actual words were a bit more condescending in nature, but she gets the gist of it, and is glad that she does not have a live bird to contend with at the moment.

  
The beautiful sculpture is enough.

  
“So, anyway, I managed to find this one instead---did you know we have an actual old school blacksmith in town?” Emma shakes her in disbelief, though Regina thinks that is the least of the weirdness about Storybrooke. “Anyway, he also does a lot of different sculptures on the side. I found this there, and thought it was just perfect.”

  
Looking down at its smooth dark skin, the expertly carved shape of it, Regina can’t help but agree.

  
“It had, uh, red rubies for eyes at first though, and I had to change it with magic.” Emma adds quickly, and Regina traces the purple eyes silently, now placing the faint hum she can feel just underneath its surface. The familiar tang of the Saviour’s magic sparks at her own core, and for a moment, she feels that surge of power and calm she always does whenever the two of them touch hands and work in tandem to battle whatever new magical menace has arrived in town.

  
It warms her, all over, and she looks up, echoes with quiet sincerity, “It’s _perfect_ , Emma.”

  
The blonde smiles, visibly relaxing. Then, abruptly recalling her mother, who has remained curiously silent this whole time, she quickly says goodbyes. “Anyway, see you tomorrow, Regina!”

  
It’s rather abrupt, but her gaze cuts to Snow, who is now looking between the two of them with a strange expression on her gaze, and she nods. “Of course.” Even more strangely, the schoolteacher does not say anything more, only giving a quick goodbye before they both leave, and thankfully take the flock of birds with them.

  
Regina watches them go for a moment, before she goes back inside, where Zelena is eagerly waiting for some kind of explanation for the strange avian serenade on their doorstep. Somehow, she doubts the truth will help.

  
Inside, she carefully places the darkly beautiful raven sculpture on her living room mantle, next to a tiny plastic tree with a toy Robin, and pointedly ignores her sister’s teasing as she brushes against a tiny jeweled eye, feeling that familiar comforting hum spark to life beneath it.


	5. Five Golden Rings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inwardly, Regina worries about what kind of gift she'll get for "five golden rings", because jewelry doesn't have the best associations in her mind. Then, she finds Henry already in the kitchen, with Emma nowhere in sight, and worries for different reasons. Once her gift is actually revealed though, it turns out to be a memory minefield of a different sort, especially when Snow shows up at the end with her own contribution to the day...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this took forever to write because it got really long and my muse started crying for breaks in between. And I was clearly being waaay too optimistic in the beginning of this fic when I said I'd release the final chapter by 25. *sobs* There's no way I'm going to be able to write and post a chapter a day, especially since they get longer with each one. So, uh. Please bear with me, because I'll probably still be updating this fic up 'til the New Year. ....I mean, that's better than leaving it incomplete, right? 
> 
> Also, warning for some more mentions of Regina's unhappy and abusive marriage to the king. Nothing explicit, so idk if it's enough for me to up the rating for it?

Though Regina was born royalty and grew up as nobility in a foreign kingdom after their own fell, she has always been a simple girl at heart. Once, when she’d been a foolish girl with more hopes than sense, she’d been ready and willing to sacrifice all manner of luxuries for the dream of being a stablehand’s wife. 

 

That had not come to pass, and years after, Regina grew enough to recognize that even if she had been able to run away with Daniel, it would not have been all sunshine and roses. It would have been hard, it would have meant scraping every last penny they had, struggling to find work and home as poor travelling peasants, and always looking over their shoulders for Cora. 

 

They would have fought, likely, over matters large and small, as they they struggled to chart a life with each other as equals, in a world that was nothing like a fairytale, no matter what the tales here say. Regina, no matter her heart’s desires, was used to being nobility and all that entailed. Growing up sheltered (trapped) as she was, had no practical knowledge of the outside world and would have had to rely on Daniel greatly, as well as on the charity and goodness of other people, as they ran further and further away from the kingdom. 

 

Still, the brunette thinks they would have been happy. Not all the time, certainly, but overall, yes. Certainly, compared to the life she’d ended up actually living, as a queen only in name, who was in actuality little more than a trophy and a bauble (a  _ whore _ ), a poor replacement of a mother and wife, who was condescended to and forgotten in turns. 

 

Regina will never breath a word of it out loud, but she feels a creeping sense of dread over today’s gift. There is a flutter of anxiousness in the pit of her stomach when she considers the theme of  _ five golden rings _ . There are only so many ways to interpret such words, and she is worried that Emma will be gifting her with all manner of glittering jewelry today. 

 

Though her hands are bare now, and have been for years, she can still recall the press of a heavy gold ring on her finger. There had been the weight of fine-stitched, many-ruffled dresses, the cold press of metal on her wrists and neck, choking and chaining her in place. It had all been a shining gilded cage, and she had been a trapped bird. Just the thought of it all makes her breath catch, a heavy weight pressing against her chest. She can almost feel the ghost of heavy fabric settling onto her skin, the thick golden bracelets like shackles on her wrists. Then there’s the somewhat more literal ghost of her ex-husband too, and she shivers in heated room because she swears she can feel his rancid breath on her neck again--- 

 

There’s a loud noise coming from downstairs again, and the darkness of her demons dissipates in the wake of her startled shock. Her heart is still racing, and there’s a tremble to her steps when she walks, but she takes a breath, deep and calming, and manages to leave the skeletons back in her closet, or at least in her room, when she heads down the steps towards the kitchens, which she approximates to be the source once more.

 

It’s not as startling, the second time, to find noise coming from downstairs and to find someone in the kitchens before her. But still, her brows rise up all the same and she cannot help but ask, “Henry, what’re you doing here?” 

 

The teenager isn’t doing anything, as far as she can see, other than looking like he’d rather be in bed instead. Considering he came home rather late last night, after a tiring day of babysitting his energetic uncle (though that ended before dinner and he’s remained rather suspiciously quiet about what he did after), she is not surprised. 

 

Right now, he has his head on the table, but he lifts it when he hears her enter and question him. “Oh, hey Mom,” he greets sleepily, with a lazy wave of his hand. Briefly stifling a yawn, he explains. “I’m here to make sure you don’t cook anything.” 

 

Perhaps it is her nerves, still a little shaken up from a reacquaintance with her past that makes her hear what she does. Because this doesn’t make much sense. Regina blinks confusedly at this response. “...What?”

 

“It’s for ma’s gift.” Henry says, as though this explains everything. Perhaps it does. It made sense when she commandeered the kitchen to cook old favorites from her grandfather’s kingdom, though there’s none of that now. Has she cooked a meal elsewhere, then? Or will they all be dining out? She knows from experience that he will not divulge any more details for fear of “ruining the surprise”, as he calls it. 

 

She would ask Emma to explain it all herself, but the blonde is nowhere to be found. The rather conspicuous absence sends a fissure of worry through her, though she tries her best to mask it. At best, it will lead to teasing from the teenager, at worst, she will infect him with the same anxieties. So, she asks, as neutrally as she can, “Where is she?” 

 

“She’s on the way.” Henry replies with a shrug, though the way he checks his phone a few moments later when she has her back turned betrays his own worry.  

 

In any case, the words calm her some, so the brunette focuses on the somewhat pointless task of cleaning up her already spotless kitchen. It’s something to do with her hands, at least, so she rearranges a few things to keep her patient. As she does, she asks, a thin sheen of amusement to cover any lingering anxieties, “So, I’m not allowed to cook anything?”

 

He nods, before pausing. “Well, except coffee.”

 

“Ah. How kind.” Regina says drily, though she concedes there’s a wisdom to such an amendment. The mayor takes that as her cue to move towards the coffee machine, in any case. Having this part of her daily routine to do does a good job of making her facade of calmness a little more sincere, too.

 

The alluring scent of her imported coffee beans starts filling the kitchen and Regina soaks it in with a deep breath. The taste of it is just as good, and the caffeine provides a much needed jolt to sharpen her senses this morning. Her son is still too young for it, in her opinion, though she knows Zelena likes to let him sneak tastes and he likely orders it himself elsewhere. Still, she wants to think he’s still her little boy as much as she can, and sends him a stern look when he tries to pour a cup for himself.

 

“No es justo!” Henry complains, and part of Regina is tempted to respond that life isn’t fair, but she stills her tongue. “Ma me permite hacerlo.” There’s a moment where he stumbles over what to call Emma when they speak Spanish, but he seems to decide just to call her the same thing, at least for now. 

 

Regina frowns at this admission, and resolves to speak to his other mother about giving their young son coffee that will stunt his growth. For now, she only shakes her head and reiterates. “No hasta que tengas dieciocho.” When he is an adult, he can make his own decisions. For now, he is still her son, and living under her roof (at least, half the time).

 

Before Henry can complain about the unfairness of this, Zelena comes in and immediately frowns at the lack of food. Robyn is held in her arms, looking far less concerned about the missing breakfast. 

 

Never one to miss out on her snark, the redhead asks drily, “Did the fat man come early and eat all the food?”   
  


“Very funny.” Regina compliments sarcastically, before she shakes her head and explains. “No. Emma has something planned, so all we have is coffee at the moment.”

 

Her sister appears skeptical, though she takes the proffered cup of coffee, taking a languid sip. For a few blessed moments, she says nothing, busy placing her daughter in a high chair while she goes to get a bottle to feed her. Henry looks a little envious at the fact that someone is already eating breakfast, and starts typing away even more furiously at his phone. Regina is busy looking at the toddler with a vaguely misty-eyed look of nostalgia to notice.

 

She pats Robyn absently on the head, vaguely trying to arrange the soft baby hair into some semblance of order, while her sister prepares the bottle. Regina looks at the scene wistfully, musing, “I remember when I used to do this for you, Henry.”

 

Her son scrunches his nose, eying little Robyn with a curious brow. “What was I like, as a baby?”

 

Regina smiles, utterly earnest. “You were a little devil.” At the pout this pulls from her son, she laughs lightly. “Oh, you cried a lot and never seemed to do what I wanted. It took forever to feed you or get you to sleep or just settle down.” 

 

“Was I really that bad?” Henry asks, wide-eyed. The question is light, but she senses some deeper hurts buried in it. 

 

Quickly, Regina shakes her head, and says, very firmly. “You were  _ wonderful _ .” At the skeptical look, she explains. “For so long, it felt like I was barely alive, just going through the moments. Everything seemed so grey and dull and, well, boring.” 

 

It hadn’t exactly been the victory she had imagined. Curse was the right word for it, and honestly, in some ways, she’d been the most cursed of all, forced to remember every single dull and endless day for years on end.   

 

“I was going insane trapped in such an endless loop.” Regina admits, with some of the hardwon honesty that has managed to save their relationship. Looking now at her bright, beautiful boy, she says with a smile. “But then, you arrived, and everything just burst to life. I think I actually enjoyed the fact that you refused to do what I want because that was the first time in a long time someone did that.” She adds this with a wry twist to her lips and a short laugh that Henry copies. 

 

In the corner of her eye, she sees Zelena seemingly busy feeding her daughter, though she doesn’t doubt the other woman is also listening to every word. The brunette stands up and heads for her son, placing a hand on his shoulder and pulling him into a side hug. He reciprocates it easily.

 

“I loved every infuriating, ridiculous moment with you, and I continue to.” She pressed a kiss to his forehead, before she pulls away and adds, drily, “Though I hope by now, you are past your terrible twos and more willing to do as I tell you.”

 

Henry smiles at her, before it turns into something more cheeky as he replies. “ _ No hay promesas, Mami. _ ”

 

Regina only sighs, shaking her head. “Definitivamente eres nuestro hijo.” What else would the product of former villain and young delinquent say? This too, is part of honesty, she supposes. 

 

Sitting back down on one of the chairs, she finds that her sister is now eying her with a strange look in her eyes. Uncomfortable with this attention, Regina coughs lightly, “Yes, Zelena?”

 

The redhead seems to startle for a moment, before she regains her composure and asks lightly, sending Regina a slight smirk, “And where is your personal Santa Claus?”

 

This is not what she intended to say, she’s sure. This is also not a topic she would prefer to discuss. The mayor sends her a look, but it’s Henry who answers.

 

“Ma’s on the way.” The teenager repeats for his aunt’s benefit. Holding up his phone, he adds, “She’ll be here in a few minutes, she says.” 

 

The pronouncement brings Regina some relief, though it also brings some worry. Just what does Emma have planned now? Considering the circumstances, whatever gift she has in mind likely has something to do with food, so that is at least one worry put to rest. But she’s still wary, especially after the bird choir she was just subjected to yesterday. Admittedly, it was Snow’s fault, and Emma gifted her a beautiful statue of a raven instead (she cannot help but cut a glance towards the living room, where it stands proudly on her mantle), but she has worries that this has the schoolteacher’s fingerprints all over it too. Regina knows better than most just how easily Snow White can drag you into doing something you don’t want to do. 

 

Thankfully for Regina’s nerves, before she can start picturing a ridiculous Enchanted Forest-style feast and ball planned by former stepdaughter, she hears the sound of a door being jangled open and then slammed shut comes from the hallway. Emma has arrived it seems, and taken advantage of her key to boot. 

 

In the corner of her eye, she sees twin smiles alight from her two companions, though Zelena’s is more of a smirk. Settled on a high chair, Robyn gurgles happily, too busy enjoying her breakfast to pay attention to any interruptions.  

 

“Sorry I’m late!” The blonde says in lieu of a greeting, looking rather harried, with a suspiciously familiar looking paper box in one hand and a bag in the other. She places it all on the counter, where everyone else stares curiously at it (except Henry, who only grins excitedly). 

 

The mayor decides to bite the bullet, so to speak, and check on the gifts that Emma has apparently brought. She starts with the box, which she lifts open. It’s exactly what she suspected but hoped wasn’t. 

 

“Donuts?” Regina asks, frowning skeptically at the contents. Though she is glad there is none of the accursed jewelry in sight for today’s gift, this was not exactly what she had in mind either. For one, she doesn’t quite get the connection to the theme (not that the blonde is strictly following it anyhow, she reflects, so perhaps this is a moot point). 

 

“Yep.” Emma confirms, grinning brightly as she adds, “A dozen donuts, all different flavors so you can try them all.” 

 

The way Regina’s lips purse speak about the likelihood of that happening. Henry, on the other hand, is eying every piece like he could finish the whole box himself. Clearly, a teenage boy’s appetite on top of his mother’s genes are a deadly combination for food products (especially of the junk variety). Zelena is more wary, but also more curious. Judging by the vague look of confusion, especially at some of the more interesting varieties in the box, donuts weren’t something she encountered in her time here yet. The things a quest for revenge stops you from noticing, Regina muses absently, before she focuses her attention back onto the blonde.

 

Shaking her head, the mayor asks sarcastically (though the slightest twitch of her lips betrays her amusement), “Is this gift for me or for you?” 

 

The blonde pouts at this accusation, feigning a wounded look that reminds her of their son (or is it the other way around?). “Of course it’s for you! In fact, you haven’t even seen your other gift yet.”

 

With this, Emma moves back towards the table and opens up the other bag on the table and takes out the boxes inside it. This one, she doesn’t need to open to know its contents, since it’s plastered all over the packaging. It’s not donuts, but it’s not exactly an improvement, the brunette thinks.

 

“And… you have cereal too.” Regina, looking even more unimpressed. 

 

“Yep.” The blonde confirms unneededly once again. “I was going to bring just the Fruit Loops, but I figured you’d like Cheerios better so I got that too. And fresh milk, of course.” 

 

Admittedly, the sheriff is right on that count, but also very wrong if she thinks she wants any of it at all. Regina frowns. “Have you been taking gift giving tips from your mother, dear?” 

 

The food aspect does just scream Emma, admittedly, but the blonde should really know, after all the lectures she’s given, that Regina hardly feels the same way about her beloved junk food. 

 

“No. But speaking of, she wanted in on this too, so she’s going to be bringing some by she made later.” Emma says, the look in her eyes suggesting this was not her plan, at least.

 

Regardless, the news does not exactly fill Regina with excitement. The brunette does not think it can get more ridiculous than a bird choir, really, but with Snow, she knows better than to assume such common sense. She supposes she should have expected the same of her daughter (but that’s not true, she knows, and Emma has been doing a surprisingly good job with her gift choices). So, raising a brow, she wordlessly demands an actual explanation.

 

Emma assents, looking a little sheepish as she begins. “It’s for five golden rings, you know? Well, the connection is pretty thin, admittedly, but it’s all food that looks like rings!” She waves to the donuts and cereal and Regina supposes she can concede that point.

 

A little more seriously, Emma adds quietly. “I figured you wouldn’t really want actual gold rings or any other jewelry as a gift.” It’s an astute observation, especially considering how her typical image would not support it. 

 

The brunette flinches a little at the accuracy of the remark, wondering again just how much the blonde sees when she looks at her. About as much as she sees now, she supposes, because she stares into green eyes and feels understanding reflect back at her.

 

Coughing lightly, Regina concedes, equally quietly, “True enough.” The other inhabitants of the kitchen are seemingly engrossed with the food, though she sees her sister throw her a sharp look that she very steadily ignores. Neither of them are ready for  _ that  _ talk yet, she thinks, and if she’s honest, she’s not sure they ever will be. Some wounds are just best left alone.

 

“Plus, I spoke with Ruby,” Emma then says, tone markedly lighter, as a sly look enters her eyes. “She has quite a few memories of you eating a lot of so-called junk food during the curse.”  

 

“What?” Regina startles at this information, enough that she doesn’t even try to deny it, and the blonde smirks, clearly picking up on this. Flushing slightly, she coolly lies, “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

 

By now, the other two are no longer pretending not to be listening, though Henry also has a half-eaten chocolate-frosted donut in hand, while Zelena has a matching one in pink instead. 

 

“Mom, is that true?” Her son asks, eyes alight, and she wishes in that moment he were a little less like her, because he has the look of a shark scenting blood in the water despite a thin facade of innocence. 

 

Gritting her teeth, she says again, more firmly. “Ruby is clearly addled by the aftereffects of the curse, because I have no idea what she is talking about.” All blatant lies, but she was once the Evil Queen, and one did not get to become a villain of her caliber without being a practiced liar.

 

But Emma only grins wider, not at all fooled. “Werewolves are kinda like elephants, you know, they’ve got great memories--even while under a cursed identity.” 

 

Clearly, neither her son nor her sister are any easier to fool, and Regina starts to wonder she acquired family member who could actually look beneath her words (she thinks even Snow is getting better at that, which is not something she had thought possible). So, she relents. 

 

Rolling her eyes, Regina decides it is easier to just give in to the point, as she explains with a huff, “The curse was still fairly new then, I did not have enough knowledge of this realm’s cuisine to know  _ what _ I was eating.” 

 

There’s just enough disdain in her tone that the blonde pouts at the familiar insult to her beloved junk food, but she also sees through the comment for what it is.

 

“But you enjoyed it, before you realized that.” Emma points out, hitting the mark with her truths with unerring accuracy. Though the brunette remains skeptical of the Saviour’s supposed lie-detector abilities to this day (considering the amount of times it failed against some villain or another), it seems to work rather well on her at least. 

 

Faced with such a point, Regina isn’t quite sure what to say.

 

Regina remembers the smells of the kitchen in her grandfather’s kingdom, and the lush foods she had eaten until she’d been full to bursting, the staff all too willing to indulge her sweet tooth and snacks. She remembers too, that she had been rather chubby as a toddler, with a round face and full cheeks. Cora had never liked it, but she had not much say about it, then. But the kingdom fell, and they were forced to leave.

 

Now master over home and her unruly daughter, Cora had been quite strict about all aspects of her life, including her diet. Going without it had been a typical punishment (along with being locked in her room), but even when she was being “good”, food was restricted. It had been made clear to her, from a young age, exactly what kind of path was meant to her, and queens did not eat like savages, and they were not _ fat _ .  

 

Even after Cora’s whispered hisses and strict commands were gone, there was a king and a court, who never failed to side-eye her every move like each one was a mistake. Every meal time was a forced reminder of the farce of a family she was meant to be a part of, and she had little appetite for anything, let alone the extravagant feasts prepared for royalty on the backs of the starving masses. 

 

Not to mention, the fact that the few times she did decide to  _ indulge _ , the king would eye her just as pointedly as her mother did. Mother did have a point there (or perhaps, she simply knew her kings, she would later realize, after learning the story there), it turned out, because the only kind of  _ fat _ his Majesty wanted on her was that of a pregnant belly (this was possible, she had made sure of it, but he did not know, and he  _ tried _ anyway).

 

Perhaps, after, she could have indulged herself, and she did, to some extent, in the beginning. Not a week after her  _ dear husband’s _ death and Snow’s subsequent exile, she made the kitchens prepare all her favorite foods, many according to half-remembered recipes from the old kingdom, and she ate it all with a wild abandon until she was sick with it, having her own personal celebration of her newfound freedom. 

 

But it didn’t last. Nothing good ever did. Snow was still on the run, and there was always some new bitterness to consume instead, like the fact that she was being called  _ evil  _ by the unwashed masses for the terrible crime of exacting her revenge on those who had so wronged her.

 

The curse had just been another in a long string of mistakes and disappointments. In the beginning, it had been a celebration, an exploration of this curious new land. She had sampled its food and she’d indulged in this world’s penchant for overly sweet and salty foods like a child. Granny’s Diner had been one of the places she’d so indulged it. At the time, she’d even felt some petty sense of victory in having a celebratory feast right in front of their ignorant faces. Later, when the ghosts of her past starting whispering in her ear about just what was  _ proper _ , she felt safe in the knowledge that no one would remember thanks to the curse. Eventually, she’d stopped because even this minor victory felt hollow, and she felt herself slipping back into old habits almost unconsciously.

 

Regina says not of this out loud. Can’t really, because she has never been the kind of person who could lay her weaknesses bare for the world to see (sometimes, she thinks, if only she had been, perhaps Daniel and Snow would have realized just the kind of person they were dealing with). But, as always, Emma seems to understand it anyway. Though both Henry and Zelena continue to wait for some response from her (and both are just a little worried at the lack of it), the blonde takes charge of redirecting the conversation and their attention.

 

“So, I had the great idea to tie it to this theme. There are actually a surprising amount of ring-shaped foods, you know? Enough for five, anyway.” Emma explains with an easy grin, and Regina feels something in her loosen in response. “Henry helped pick too, though I think he was mostly just looking for stuff he liked.” 

 

“Hey! Between the two of us, my taste is totally closer to Mom’s so it is totally valid.” Their son quickly rebuts, crossing his arms and shaking his head. “If we’d left it all to you, you would’ve just chosen a bear-claw shaped into rings!”

 

Zelena snorts at this, noting mildly, “The boy has a good point.”

 

At the sight of the three of them like this, Regina feels herself loosen a little more,the easy atmosphere banishing away the dark cloud of her past. It is enough that she approaches the table and looks into the box of donuts the ridiculous blonde has brought. She hesitates for just a moment, but only because she cannot decide which flavor she prefers best. In the end, she chooses a purple frosted one that she guesses is actually meant for her if the approving grin Emma sends her means anything.

 

Under that gaze, as well as Zelena’s raised brow and Henry’s eager look, Regina takes a delicate bite. It’s sweet, and just slightly tarty. Some kind of berry, perhaps? It’s good, she has to admit, and though she wants to criticize it for being too sweet and fattening out of habit, she cannot quite bring herself to. 

 

“It’s good, isn’t it, Mom?” Henry asks, grinning, before he chomps down on his own donut.

 

She chooses to take another bite in lieu of an answer, but when her son only continues to gaze expectantly at her, she gives in and says lightly, “It’s alright.” It’s not exactly a ringing endorsement, but the teenager seems to take it as one (and it is one, in its own way). 

 

“It’s better with coffee.” Emma suggests, and Regina takes the hint, taking a sip of her own before she goes behind the counter to pour a cup for the blonde too. After handing it over, with a brush of fingertips that causes a faint shiver she very determinedly ignores, she decides to sit down and enjoy the gift she has been given today.

 

“There’s cereal too, Mom!” Henry says, which is evident as he is busy pouring some into the bowl. It’s the Froot Loops one, of course. Emma does the same as soon as he is finished, which doesn’t surprise her at all.

 

Regina takes the Cheerios one, and pours a fair enough into an empty bowl. When she places it back down, she sees Zelena take it and pour as well, into a bowl already filled with the more colorful cereal. At her raised brow, the redhead defends, “ _ Your son  _ assures me this is the best way to taste both.” 

 

“It’s true, Mom.” Henry confirms, and she can only shake her head in response. 

 

Deciding not to bother replying, she focuses on her own bowl instead. Compared to the donut, the cereal is less sweet, though it’s still more sugar that she typically inhales in a week. 

 

“Now, don’t eat too much, because we still have three more tasty treats to eat.” Emma announces, with a giddy song-song that makes Henry snicker and Zelena roll her eyes.   

 

Regina is a little more concerned with the content of the notice and not its delivery (though part of her does think it is both hilarious and adorable). “There’s more?” She asks, a little alarmed.

 

“Today’s theme is  _ five _ rings, you know.” Emma answers amusedly. “So, consider this your first food trip.”

 

“A food trip?” Regina repeats incredulously, brows hiking up to her forehead in disbelief. The unfamiliar word makes her feel even more lost, though she supposes she can guess at the meaning well enough in this context.

 

“Yep.” Emma only confirms, grinning. “The kind filled with unhealthy yet utterly delicious food.”

 

“How… nice.” The brunette manages to say, though her expression no doubt speaks a different story. 

 

As she’s already admitted to having her own taste for all this junk food, there’s little point in objecting to these gifts (and the sentiment behind it), but this is still a lot all at once. Unsurprising, she supposes, because oftentimes, being with Emma feels like she’s been strapped down and forced into riding a roller coaster. The only thing you could really do was scream in frustration, but even though she might not be eating like a lady at the moment, she does still have some manners (and she’s not even that angry about it, not really)

 

“Well, it’s really just brunch.” Emma amends, shaking her head a little as she explains. “Since there are only three---well, alright, four if we count Snow’s extra---and we can really find it all in one place, it’s not your typical food trip.” 

 

It’s a confusing explanation, if you can even call it that, but Regina nods her head along anyway. She’ll find out soon enough, she supposes, and she doesn’t really want to ruin the identical grins on Emma and Henry’s faces. Shaking her head, she decides it’s better just to let this roller coaster ride run it’s course. At least this time, the most dangerous thing they are facing are the untold calories they’ll need to burn and the possibility of a heart attack. 

 

\---

 

Regina supposes she should not be surprised to be led to Granny’s after. There aren’t many eating establishments in Storybrooke to choose from, after all. At least the diner is familiar territory, as are its owners. Such familiarity comes with its own cons, however, as the knowing smirk on Red’s face as she greets them shows. Remembering Emma’s words, she has little doubt about what is going through the waitress’ mind.

 

“We’ve got the table saved for you guys.” Ruby says, almost as soon as they enter. 

 

Their arrival has drawn other eyes to them as well. Most look away after a second or two, though some continue to stare, clearly aware that something different is happening, if only by the way Emma and Henry are grinning eagerly. 

 

Regina is suspicious, and though she fights it, just a little self-conscious. The brunette has been on both extremes of attention, as a “queen” forgotten and ignored by most of the kingdom as a pale replacement of their beloved Eva, and as the infamous Evil Queen who drew fearful looks everywhere she went. 

 

This is something different, she knows, because the expressions directed at her amused, not hateful or dismissive. But still, it stirs at her, and she feels her stomach twist unpleasantly all the same. She thinks she would be more comfortable if they were just angry or scared of her again (it’s better than being angry or scared herself, she knows).

 

But her family is there: Emma and Henry are  grinning conspiratorially and speaking in hushed whisper, planning, she suspects, future gifts, while Zelena has a facade of cool disdain around the masses, it breaks when her daughter pulls at her hair and gurgles at her. They are there, and nothing else matters. So Regina slides into the booth with then, hiding a smile behind a menu that she doesn’t need, because the diner hasn’t changed anything even after the curse broke. 

 

“No need for a menu.” Emma speak up, echoing her thoughts, though she gives a different reasoning. “I’ve already placed an order with Ruby beforehand.” She directs it at Zelena too, who is eying everything in the menu disdainfully.  

 

Regina sets the menu down, feeling just a little more exposed without it. Raising a brow, she asks, “You ordered ring-shaped food, then?” 

 

“ _ No arruinar la sorpresa _ .” This time, the reminder comes from Zelena of all people, who smirking smugly at her, as she says this in terribly accented Spanish. It’s still a minor accomplishment, she supposes, that she managed to use all the right words, at least, though it is likely just the fact that Henry has spoken this exact sentence so many times over the course of two days. 

 

Regina merely raises a brow as she replies with a flourish, rolling her  _ Rs _ with aplomb, “Lo que digas, querida hermana.” She relishes in the annoyed look that crosses Zelena’s face because she does not understand but assumes an insult. It is all the more amusing considering she was merely agreeing with her statement. 

 

Thankfully, before a fight between sisters can occur, the werewolf approaches the booth.

 

“Here’s your order.” Ruby announces as she arrives, carrying two large plates with her. “Onion rings and calamari!”

 

The plates are quickly placed on the table, the scent of oil and spice wafting through the air. Zelena looks even more skeptical than she pretends to be. Henry doesn’t bother with a pretense, and merely starts to dig in. Before he can though, his other mother laughs and places a hand to stop him. “Wait up, kid.” 

 

Their son huffs exasperatedly in response, but listens to the direction. She can tell he’s as curious as she is, so it seems this part of the plan, at least, was not something he was informed about. 

 

Emma grins, and takes the time to add a little dramatic flair to her next pronouncement, “And! For our side dish, instead of french fries, we have---” The blonde waves her hand and a familiar-looking package of chips appears. It looks rather different too, however, and Regina almost suspects something went wrong with the spell if only for the expression on the blonde’s face.

 

“Woah, I didn’t know they made Cheetos like this.” Henry exclaims, grabbing the bag for a closer look. “Are these knockoffs or something?”

 

“Cheetos X’s and O’s---without the X’s. These were discontinued years ago, actually, but I remembered eating them as a kid, and well, I couldn’t resist.” Emma explains, looking rather wistful. 

 

Regina knows, much like herself, the blonde doesn’t have many good memories of her childhood. She wants to know what has brought that expression on her face, and thinks herself of rare moments alone with only her father, of quietly tending to an apple tree seedling and watching it grow, oh so slowly, and of being astride her horse, galloping through the field with the wind in her hair. Part of her wants to ask, but she hesitates, aware of their audience, of the fact that Emma rarely talks about her past, especially her childhood. She knows, even the good memories can cut deeply, how it can sometimes hurt even more than the bad ones.

 

Besides, she thinks that their present is a good enough memory in the making that there’s no need to bog it down with ghosts. There are enough of those, she thinks. So, she smirks at the way Henry tries a few and remarks that the new ones taste better, and tries not to laugh too hard when Emma pouts and the two descend into a far too fierce fight over cheese-flavored chips. 

 

Regina tries one herself, and has to agree with her son (and not just because of motherly obligation). “Hmm.. I think Henry has a point here. The new ones are more… flavorful, I think.”

 

The sheriff raises a brow at this, before she asks teasingly, “And when did you become such an expert on Cheetos flavors, Madame Mayor?” 

 

This gains her a mere noncommittal shrug, but Henry gasps and says accusingly, “I knew you were sneaking bites from my Cheetos bags!” Regina flushes slightly at this, aware she has just given herself away, but she quickly turns in around when she notes pointedly, “Cheetos bags that were not even supposed to be in the house.” 

 

Thankfully, before the argument and devolve some more (and embarrass her further), they realize that someone at the booth has been suspiciously silent. With the three of them distracted by Emma’s conjured side dish, Zelena has taken the opportunity to hoard the onion rings and calamari to herself, it seems. Clearly, not even having a baby on her lap is enough to keep her from enjoying her spoils evidently. 

 

“Aww, no fair, Aunt Z!” Henry complains, when he finally notices, and quickly takes some for himself. Emma copies him, and the two briefly fight when they end up spearing the same piece of calamari, while Regina shakes her head and takes some of the free pieces for herself. 

Their booth is blessedly silent for once, as they all dig into the food, some with more gusto than others (Henry and Emma). But the silence doesn’t last for long, because the door chimes when they’re nearly done with the meal (that’s one small mercy, she supposes), and the way Zelena’ expression breaks into a startled smirk of incredulous amusement gives her a big hint as to who it is. Turning around, Regina sees the all too familiar face of a beaming Snow White and resists the urge to sigh. 

 

The woman is carrying a large box with her, and she is immediately suspicious. Especially once she approaches and announces eagerly, “I’ve brought dessert!”

 

“We’re not finished eating.” Regina can’t help but point out.

 

This makes Snow’s face fall, which is her intended goal, but it doesn’t last long, because the other woman has always been a font of vaguely delusional optimism. “Well, I don’t mind waiting.” She replies, and the former Evil Queen wants to say something about waiting in the next booth or maybe back at the loft completely, when Henry pipes up.

 

“Why don’t you join us, grandma?” The teenager suggests with an easy smile, and, as always, she cannot begrudge him. Sighing faintly, she nods faintly in agreement and tries not to frown when Snow takes the opportunity and slides into the booth next to her. Because, of course she does. She rolls her eyes slightly, but chooses to say nothing, taking a bite out of an onion ring instead. At least it’s got a vegetable instead it, she supposes, though the deep fried batter cancels out any kind of health factor she’s sure.

 

Snow looks wide-eyed at her, she bristles at it. “What?” Regina bites out, a little more harshly than intended, but the younger woman seems too stunned to even notice the ire. 

 

Shaking her head, she replies, “I’m just surprised to see you eating this kind of food, I suppose.” There’s a faraway look in her eyes, and Regina wonders if she is remembering meals taken in a palace together, where a young queen always ate little of the rich fare they’d been served. Shaking her head ruefully, Snow sends a brief glance at her daughter as she admits. “Emma told me what she was planning, but I didn’t think you’d actually agree to it. ...I guess she really does know you better than I do.” 

 

The last admission is coupled with a searching look that makes her feel intensely uncomfortable. Regina looks away, and tells herself that’s not an admission of defeat, as she says flatly. “You don’t know me at all, Snow.” 

 

It’s an exaggeration, perhaps, and yet it’s not, because there are plenty of moments where it seems like Snow still looks at her and sees someone else entirely. So, this is a familiar accusation she’s aimed more than once at the other woman, but this might be the first time her former stepdaughter understands exactly what she means. Or, at least, more than the fraction she usually gets. For all that they’ve spent years in close proximity and have had their lives entangled with each other for seeming all of eternity, she thinks Snow knows still knows her the  _ least _ out of everyone in this booth. Hell, if she’s being honest, she thinks the two werewolves who are likely eavesdropping on their conversation probably know her better too. 

 

There’s a moment of long, awkward silence, where even little Robyn seems to sense the mood and merely gnaws quietly on a strand of her mother’s red hair. Regina wants to curse Snow for her infuriating ability to always say the wrong thing at the wrong time, because the easy atmosphere had vanished, filled by the tense anticipation that has always characterized the air during a fight between the infamous Evil Queen and Snow White. Only, that’s not what this is. This is, perhaps, one between a lonely, heartbroken queen, and the oblivious princess she’d been forced to play stepdaughter too. Theirs is a relationship fraught with old wounds, and sometimes, Regina wonders how they can ever be in the same room at all without hurting each other.

 

It’s Snow who breaks the standoff first, hands going towards the box she brought, as she says, uncharacteristically glum, “I made this for you.”

 

The box is carefully opened up, and a giant cake is revealed. It has alternating layers of purple, brown and yellow (meant to be gold, she assumes), and there’s a large hole in the center of the topmost layer of cake, which just happens to be colored yellow. To Regina, it looks ridiculous and rather tacky, but it’s par for the course for Snow White, and she’s honestly a little impressed the woman managed to bake this all in one day. 

 

She says as much, because it is true, though mostly because she wants this day to stop being marked by old scars acting up (it’s hard to avoid, but she wants to at least try). It succeeds, because Snow brightens, though she quickly deflates again as she frowns. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

Of course the fool refuses to grasp the olive branch she’s been given. Regina releases an aggrieved sigh, and she says pointedly. “Why on Earth would I do that, Snow?” The frown slips into something more like a pout, but she quickly cuts off whatever comes out of that damnable mouth next by addressing everyone, “Let’s eat.”

 

Henry and Emma thankfully do not need more direction than that, while Zelena is much more wary about tasting it. She chooses to entertain little Robyn instead, whose happy gurgles do a good job of making Regina’s shoulder loosen from their tense position. It allows her to take a small bite of the cake herself, even with the heavy weight of Snow’s anxious stare on her

 

It taste better than she expects, and Regina allows herself to show some of it in reaction for Snow’s benefit, though she only tells the other woman mildly. “It seems you’ve finally learned something after all.” She means more than just the cake’s taste, and even the princess’ thick skull seems to absorb this implication. 

 

Breaking into a grin, Snow tells her, more serious than bubbly for once, “Thank you, Regina.” 

 

None of this addresses their lingering issues or the state of their complicated relationship. But this isn’t the time or place for that, and both of them know how to compromise for the sake of their family, by now. So, Regina gives a small smile in return, and slowly, the comfortable atmosphere returns. 

  
It’s easy enough to forget about such things, when a competition sparks up between Emma and Henry over who can actually finish the most out of the ridiculous tower of cake, or when little Robyn gets too excited over the commotion and ends up making a chunk of the cake fall over with her flailing hands. It’s chaotic and it’s beautiful and Regina wishes it could last forever, that she could erase the past with her present. When she manages to share a commiserating look of understanding with Snow White over Emma’s antics at one point, she can almost believe it’s possible too. 


End file.
